When I was growing up, there weren’t all of these gathering at school in which parents have to feel constantly on the ball.  At my kids’ previous school, second grade is the year that there is a class gathering with food prepared by parents almost every month.  And not just any kind of food; it’s themed to what they are learning.  My favorite was West African Cassava Cakes, which tasted horrible, and didn’t even look appealing, but that the teacher insisted we make.  There was always the mom who managed to make her ethnic treats look and taste great, but I wasn’t one of them.  There were also often themed days, in which kids had to dress up as a famous person on Monday, wear the school colors on Tuesday, don elegant clothes on Wednesday,  and throw on pajamas on Thursday.  My fear was what if I got the days wrong and my child came dressed at Abraham Lincoln while every one else was in pajamas?

It’s all a little bit too much.

I also just got a note from my son’s director, thanking the parents for sending snacks with their kids for the long rehearsals they have had.  Um, I’m haven’t sent in any snacks. It never occurred to me. And to think I was so proud of dealing with scheduling the hand surgeon for my daughter with her broken finger and sending the check for the France trip.  But then I had this realization: whatever you do will never be enough.  Not for you or for anyone.  There’s always more that you could be doing.

This is why people look so exhausted all the time.  They are wacking away at all the balls, keeping them in the air.  And they are taking on concerns that aren’t theirs, like whether school robotics club will happen this year, and whether their friends’ marriage is breaking up, or whether a neighbors’ house should be condemned because it’s in such bad disrepair.  I used to do that, until I got a painful eye condition.  Part of healing for me involves letting balls drop and not taking stuff on that I don’t need to take on.  I no longer respond to emails within the hour, as though I had a gun pressed to head.  I no longer need to solve everyone’s marriage and financial issues.  It’s not easy to change, but I’m doing it.  Today I walked by the dilapidated house on my walk home and didn’t take it on.

This applies to major issues in the world too.  I can’t solve global poverty and the plight of the polar bears, and the transgender fight, and all the racism and violence in our world.  But, I can be kind. I can raise my kids to treat others fairly and be open minded, I can vote and march and write.  I can focus on a being that person who is bringing good energy to the world, not complaining about the weather and housing prices and whether men listen– all things I can’t control.

The reality is, we can control so little.  Starting with a calm mind is a great start, since we can’t offer peace if we don’t have it.

As you think about the work you want to bring to the world stage, think about all the balls you are juggling and how many of them you can let go of.  If you look carefully, you’ll realize that you don’t have to do everything asked of you.  Yes, bringing African-themed cookies is essential for your second grader– and we thankfully got all those years of gatherings right.  But once they are in sixth grade and the teacher doesn’t bother to tell you, let alone your son, a few Tic-Tacs is good enough.  One fewer ball to carry.  Figure out your should’s and let go of those.  The world needs you to be lighter so that you don’t bring more burdens, but instead your humor, your joy and your gifts.

The next day I was feeling sorry for myself because my husband and I are applying for a HELOC and have discovered all sorts of legal errors from our past mortgage that was never discharged and recorded properly.  After four hours on the phone and doing research, we still felt like we were spinning our wheels.  It just felt awful to waste all that time trying to address a problem that I couldn’t figure out how to solve yet and that was based on other people’s errors.  And then I thought of the children of Aleppo.  I looked up the images of children stumbling through the wreckage covered in blood, searching for their parents.  And then I felt ashamed for forgetting about the people who are really struggling.

I’ve heard Americans laugh about how they only have first world problems, as though only people in third world countries suffer.  While it is true that we have clean sources of water and access to vaccines, the United States still has one of the highest percentages of children living in poverty in the world, which is shameful given how rich our country is.  And even in wealthier communities, there is still suffering.  My neighbor Anne died of breast cancer at age 40 a few weeks before her oldest child started first grade this fall.  Her younger child is probably too young to remember her.

The problem with our culture is that we have this belief that if we work hard enough and focus enough, nothing bad will happen.  We will have perfect abs in 15 minutes per day.  We will make millions while working 4 hours per week, sitting on a beach.  We will always look 25 no matter our age and we will always be happy.  This is the world that Facebook shows, but most of us know that it isn’t real.  The fact is that we have very little control over so much of our lives, in small things and large things.  I can’t control that my son broke our dishwasher playing with a friend, that kids in middle school can be mean, that some people are rude and have bad manners, that the weather in Boston changes every five seconds, and that drivers are crazy and unpredictable.  I also can’t control that I have suffered from unremitting eye pain for 5 years, and no amount of wishing or praying or trying makes it different.  But I can remember that when I am struggling, whether with the drudgery of life or the fact of living with pain, that I can remember Aleppo.  I can focus on the people who need us the most, whether the woman in the grocery store or the children searching in the rubble.

To find your world stage, remember that the reason to strive for greatness is so that you can help others to see their own.  Striving to become rich is an empty goal unless you have a larger mission like Bill Gates, using his money to reach so much of the world.  Trying to be famous so more people will like you (and LIKE you and FRIEND you) is an empty goal.  But becoming known so that you can have a greater impact is something worth striving for.  This week, when you feel down or overwhelmed or frustrated, remember Aleppo, and it will put it all in perspective.